Fate of Terra - Rise of Empires

Chapter 8.2 - Rewrite

Earlier that morning Dejah was a curious sort, loving to learn and explore. It was part of her nature that she'd eventually develop out of, or so they said. She looked at her father, sure, the open interest in things was gone, yet his thirst for knowledge was bright. It was that thirst that drew him to Michael in the first place.

When Pan alerted her to Michael's request, she leapt at it. She'd been fascinated by the Harpeian race since she was a child, the pictures she'd seen in her story books depicted them as graceful and beautiful. Their colour was unmatched by any known species in its variety and brightness. Sure, the occasional race had a jet of orange hair, or possessed varied traits, but they paled in comparison.

When she inquired for more detail, like how the person had gotten aboard, Pan gave her a quick rundown. She was surprised to hear of her arrival, even more so at the reveal of the dark plume. A spark of concern crackled when she heard the female was in Medical.

Departing the plush suite Dejah called home, she made her way to the Med Bay. Naively she reasoned her own visit to the Medical centre of the ship would guide her feed. Nope. The ship could be a maze at the best of times and as complicated as a Than'Den's stripe pattern at it's worst. The logic behind Human thinking was paradoxical.

'How does Yellow come after Orange in a colour scheme if Blue comes before Green?' She grumbled to herself as she gave up and asked for Pan to highlight her way.

The entry corridor yawned before her and she sent a silent thanks to her digitised sister. At the exit were two Terrans and the singular Harpeian. True to what Pan had informed, the Harpeian, a female, was standing with her back against the wall, head lowered. Michael was talking in his language to the Doctor, a no-nonsense woman who reserved a strict decorum.

She caught the end of their exchange, just as Michael turned to face her. "I'll have the flight suit sent for cleansing and analysis."

"Thank you," He said. Spotting Dejah, he smiled warmly, "Ah, good timing!"

"Sorry I'm late," She smiled up at her mate, following him into the Galactic Standard "Am I interrupting?"

"Not at all. We're finished with our newest crew members checkup. She'll be fine onboard in our environment."

Dejah caught the head movement in the very edge of her periphery. It was a sudden movement, a sharp movement, one that almost had her snapping her own head to gain better view of whatever it was. Instead, she clamped down on the urge, slowly turning to look at the woman.

She wasn't tall, but then, no Harpeian was. Their compact frame was built for a different purpose to hers or Michael's. The woman was now looking at Michael, her attention drawn away from the hospital footwear she'd been so interested in.

"I gather you'll be able to show her around, get her acquainted with the ship and its inner running?" Michael said, steering the trio down the corridor she'd just entered.

"Of course," Dejah said, nodding towards the woman who was still fixated upon Michael. "Is there anything you wish for us to discuss or view?"

"I trust your judgement on the matter," The powerful man in black and silver said, taking her hand in his.

He walked them quickly, gaining steps ahead of their feathered companion. Dejah felt it odd, but said nothing. She'd learned long ago that Michael had reasons for his actions.

'Has Pan brought you up to speed?' His voice swathed her mind in its commanding tones. An involuntary shiver porcupined her fur.

'She has,' Dejah confirmed. 'I've never heard of a Harpeian with such dark plumage.'